It’s no secret that ya girl here likes to infuriate herself. Namely at herself. It’s been a little while, I’ve been doing pretty well what with the positivity, personal growth, goal setting, fighting for my mental health and all. Well, fear not, friends: it’s time for a tale of self sabotage. If you follow my instagram you would know that I was very excited when the Two Door Cinema Club tour was announced. It will also have become apparent to you that amidst the frivolity of preparatory drinks and TikTok creation, I failed to acknowledge my anxiety until it was too late.
Trust me when I say that I had every intention of going to Two Door. I was ready, my makeup turned out good, I had an outfit picked. I thought long and hard about the gig, eventually I knew I had to bite the bullet and buy the ticket to make sure I’d go. But Grace, I hear you scolding your screen, you’ve done this before and didn’t go… and yes, technically speaking you are correct. However this is different, because this ticket was significantly more expensive and money does not grow on trees. I told myself for literal weeks before this gig that I could not under any circumstances bail unless it were a matter of actual life and death because I didn’t know when I’d get a chance to see Two Door again and also money.
As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, I had every intention of going to see Two Door, there was but a small hiccup. Perhaps it was the fact that I spent so much time hyping myself up I didn’t take time during the day to acknowledge and work through some of my anxiety, perhaps it would have happened anyway, nobody can be sure. What everybody can be sure of though is that I bloody missed the gig, and when I say I missed the gig, I mean I sobbed because I was scared of going to this new venue alone and then also sobbed afterwards because by the time my shit had been gathered and I was calm, cool and collected (don’t laugh, I was by my standards) I had very seriously missed more than half of the gig.
Still angry at myself over missing this gig that I had wanted to be, it’s taken me just over a week to be able to acknowledge it happened since the night. I’m not going to go into the ugly details of the anxiety, but there was definitely some hyperventilation, self deprecation and tears… the holy trinity of mental health, if you will. It really was the catalyst for an entire identity crisis, a WTF am I doing moment and a 10 pm green hair dye moment.
I am pleased, however, to reassure you that the green hair dye turned out pretty sick and that it also set the ball rolling for an entire evaluation of what I want to achieve as well as the revisitation of the goals that I set for myself back in August. There will be more on that later. I also made it to the next gig, which reaffirmed that I want to keep doing this, that the pure joy of live music will continue to trump my fear of life. Every damn time.